Mister Scarecrow Hates Halloween
by Carrieosity
Summary: Castiel hates Halloween, so being roped into working in costume at a pumpkin patch has him seething in misery. And now, of all things, the object of his unrequited crush is walking toward him, and Cas is praying the costume will hide him just a bit longer.


_AN: This was written for the Destiel Halloween Mini-Bang on Tumblr!_

* * *

Castiel was not a big fan of Halloween. For one thing, he was constantly cold; late October in Kansas had a tendency to easily slip from what one would cheerfully classify as "crisp" into what sane people (judged as such according to Castiel's admittedly biased standards) would describe as "glacial." There weren't enough sweaters in the _world_ , he thought, to make running around in the cold, late into the darkening evening, tolerable, let alone entertaining. He had felt that way even as a child, and now that he was in his last year of high school, he didn't even have the prospect of a pillowcase full of free candy to ease the irritation.

For another thing, nobody seemed willing to accept his first argument and let him stay home and ride out his irritation in peace.

If he'd had his way, he'd be curled up on his sofa, buried under a mound of crocheted afghans, sipping a mug of hot chocolate, and reading a book. Despite his dislike of the traditional Halloween social festivities, he was certainly able to appreciate the seasonal appropriateness of a good gothic horror story, and he had been holding his Poe treasury in his hand, happily anticipating his evening, when it had all gone to hell, courtesy of Gabriel. As usual.

"C'mon, Cassie! It's an all-hands-on-deck situation!" Gabriel had cried, pulling the book out of his hands and tossing it roughly onto the couch. Castiel winced, watching it bounce open, pages fluttering.

"It's not my deck, Gabriel. Why should I have to man it?"

"Because it's Halloween!" he'd shrugged, pulling Castiel toward the door. "What kind of big brother would I be if I let you rot away by yourself on this glorious, spooky night? A rotten one, that's what I'd be."

Castiel had rolled his eyes. "Just be honest with me. Are you dragging me out to be charitable, or did you accidentally understaff the pumpkin patch for the night, even knowing it's your biggest night of the year?"

"Oh, Castiel," Gabriel had sighed, donning an exaggerated expression of fondness. "Why can't it be both?" Castiel had gritted his teeth and forced his brother to pull him bodily out of the house, but he had resigned himself to being unpaid labor for the night. Past experience had taught him that outright refusal, in this type of situation, was guaranteed to lead to painful retaliatory pranks. Halloween put a host of shenanigan-friendly props and tools within easier-than-usual reach, and he had no desire to wake up in a coffin, completely buried in snakes and spiders.

Perhaps it was his semi-cooperation that had saved him somewhat, putting Gabriel in a merciful mood. Rather than shivering in a dunking booth or being forced to apply his non-existent artistic talents to painting ghouls and goblins on children's faces, he was simply thrown into a scarecrow costume and pointed at a large chair. Castiel raised his eyebrow at his brother.

"Not that I'm asking for a different job, but couldn't you have just put a dummy scarecrow in the chair? Why did you need me for this?"

"Oh-ho, Cassie! You're not just going to sit there, looking – okay, not pretty," Gabriel chuckled, tweaking the burlap mask covering Castiel's face. "Your job is to _look_ like a dummy, _act_ like a dummy, and when the kids get too close and _think_ you're a dummy…" He clapped his hands loudly and cackled. "Scare the shit out of them!"

Castiel groaned. "Lovely. How do you suggest I do that?"

"Eh, scream at them, jump up, wave your arms…you'll think of something." He waved his hand negligently and strutted away, leaving Castiel wondering for the thousandth time whether it had been himself or his brother who had been accidentally switched in the hospital nursery. He plopped into the chair, grateful for the mask that allowed him to glare unseen at the world around him.

Several hours into his shift, he was only slightly less grumpy, but he could admit to feeling mollified by being able to vent his mood in rather satisfying ways. The annoyingly chirpy group of cheerleaders and "sexy nurses" shrieked and ran gratifyingly away when he growled at them; the screeching punk throwing a fit over not getting a big enough pumpkin went wide-eyed and dropped the tantrum mid-whine when Castiel quietly stood up behind him and reached his arms out on either side. Castiel smirked to himself, feeling like a vengeful spirit, here to make the masses just _shut up and go away._

As the crowd ebbed a bit, giving him a moment of solitude, Castiel heard a whimpering cry getting louder as it approached. He grimaced. It wasn't that he disliked children – far from it, in fact. _That kid doesn't want to be here,_ he thought. _Nobody's listening to them, any more than they listen to me._ Through the rough gauze over the mask's eye holes, he saw a young teenage boy carrying a preschool-aged girl in a princess costume; her face was buried in his neck, and she was visibly shaking.

"I still say we should just take her home," the boy was saying over his shoulder to someone walking behind him. "She's terrified! This was a horrible idea!" Castiel caught himself before he nodded in fervent agreement; the last thing the scared child needed was spooky scarecrows joining the conversation.

"And I'm telling you that if we take her back home now, she's going to have nightmares for months," said a voice that made Castiel blanch. _No, not now._ "Dad took you home from the circus when you got like this, and how're those clown dreams treating you these days, Sammy?" The owner of the deep voice came around the side of the younger teen, confirming Castiel's horrible suspicion. Dean Winchester, captain of the school football team, Casanova of Lawrence High, and the unwitting star of all Castiel's fantasies since junior high. Castiel's crush on Dean had practically been the single biggest herald of his personal revelation that his orientation had come wrapped in a rainbow flag.

And there he sat, closer than he'd ever dared come to the other boy, unable to say a word even if he'd been able to remember just how speech was formed. This was mortifying.

"What she needs is just one positive moment to remember," Dean was saying to the other boy, who Castiel now recognized as Dean's younger brother Sam, who was a freshman at their school. "Something she can go home feeling happy and brave about, so that when she thinks about Halloween, she has good associations." He stroked the little girl's hair, careful not to dislodge the plastic tiara nestled in her curls. "Krissy, I promise, there's nothing bad here. Do you trust me?" She gave a short, sharp nod, but her eyes remained planted against Sam's neck.

Dean cast his gaze around the immediate area, critically examining the "haunted" corn maze, the hay wagon driven by a zombie, and the petting zoo full of "witches' familiars." When his eyes fell on Castiel, they seemed to light up, sparkling green in the way that always made Castiel's heart skip. "Look, a scarecrow! Scarecrows are nice, Krissy! They only scare birds, not people! They're, like, protectors – the good guys. Watch!"

Castiel stopped breathing as Dean stepped close in front of him, leaning over his legs and tweaking the straw hat on his head. _He thinks I'm not real_ , thought Cas, trying to stay focused. He determined to do absolutely nothing to disrupt that assumption. _No need for him to know there's a real person in this costume. Certainly no need for him to_ ever _know that it was me, if he even knows who I am. And he doesn't, and there's no way that_ this _is going to be how that changes._

"See, Krissy? He's just a working man, doing his job. He probably only does this on Halloween; the rest of the year, he's, like, a tax accountant or something. Takes off the overalls and wears a boring old suit and tie." Dean grinned back and forth between the girl and Castiel. He grabbed the collar around Castiel's – no, the scarecrow's – neck, straightening it, and Castiel breathed a silent prayer of thanks that he'd insisted on keeping his wool scarf around his neck so that his involuntary swallow wasn't visible.

Krissy had stopped whimpering and was peeking at Dean while he chatted, a small smile playing at her lips. She was obviously still anxious, but slowly she was beginning to accept that there might not be any danger here. The shifting mood felt fragile; Sam looked like he was afraid to blink, in case the movement startled her and ruined the moment. Now there was even more pressure on Castiel. Not only did he not want Dean to look too closely and discover his presence, but there was also no chance that he was going to risk upsetting the girl and destroying everything Dean was building for her. She was starting to lift her head away from Sam's neck, considering…

"I have an idea," Dean said. With no warning – who would he have warned? – he turned around and dropped onto Castiel's lap, draping his legs sideways. Thank God, the rustling and crunching of the straw packed into and around Castiel's sleeves and pant legs masked the grunt not quite contained behind the mask. Castiel was terrified that the sound had been heard, but nobody gave any signs of sudden realization, thankfully. Dean beamed broadly. "Look at me! Mister Scarecrow and I are buddies now! And you know what Mister Scarecrow's buddies get?"

"What?" Krissy whispered, eyes full of interest, now fully facing Dean and Castiel from her perch in Sam's arms.

"Candy apples!" Dean practically purred, then chuckled warmly as she gasped in delight. "That's right, sweetheart, I know you like those, don't you? All you have to do to get one is come over here and say hi. Cousin Sammy will even take our picture together, all three of us, so your mom and dad can see how brave you were. What do you say?"

Krissy was a picture of indecision. In spite of himself, Castiel found himself rooting for her silently. _Come on, Krissy. You can do it!_ Realizing what he was doing, Castiel felt his heart break even more for the sensitive, kind, perfect boy who was apparently even more perfect that Castiel had imagined he could be. He wished with all his soul that he could actually be a part of this moment, not just lurking in the background as some sort of voyeuristic decoration.

Sam felt the child make her decision, twisting her torso, and he stepped toward them before lowering her to the ground, giving her less distance in which to change her mind. She bit her lip and balled her hands into tight fists, but Dean's encouraging wave beckoned her closer, and then she was standing at Castiel's knee. She scowled into his mask for a moment, then hesitantly reached to pat his gloved hand. "You be nice, Mister Scarecrow," she solemnly demanded, and Castiel was more than willing to obey the fierce little princess.

Sam pulled out his phone and took the picture as quickly as he could, in case the moment broke, and then Krissy was demanding her candy apple _right now_. Dean smiled agreeably, nodding, and patted her on the back. "They're over in the cider barn. Sam will take you over there, won't he? I'll be there in a minute – got some straw in my boot, and it itches." Sam lofted Krissy high into the air; the adrenaline rush from the beaten fear had her squealing as much as the toss. The two strode away, leaving Dean chuckling softly as he watched. Castiel waited for Dean to stand up and leave, but instead, he bent to adjust his boot while still sitting across Castiel's legs. Then he pulled his own phone from his pocket.

 _He's checking his texts,_ Castiel realized in shock. Sweat began beading on the back of his neck, and he pushed down a wave of hysterical giggles that threatened to climb from his throat. _What the hell do I do now?_ Dean was obviously in no hurry to join his brother and cousin in the barn; he actually settled himself more firmly in place, scrolling through messages leisurely, then opening Snapchat.

"Smile, Mister Scarecrow," he murmured, holding up the phone camera and aiming it at their faces. Castiel bared his teeth in a panicked caricature of a grin behind his mask, hearing the camera click. _This cannot possibly get any more uncomfortable_ , he thought. Another part of his brain pointed out rather meanly that, strictly speaking, this wasn't actually all that uncomfortable. Dean was warm, and he smelled like campfires and cedar, and if only both participants in this cozy moment were aware that there were, well, multiple participants, it would have the potential to be one of the best moments of Castiel's entire life. As it was, he was praying desperately that Dean would finish what he was doing and leave, or at least _stop wiggling_ , before certain un-scarecrow-like attributes could become abundantly obvious.

Children were screaming happily. The aromas of the petting zoo warred jarringly with the apple cider scents. Painted wooden goblins leered at Castiel from the other side of the meadow. And in his lap, Dean Winchester quietly asked, "So, is this how you spend all your weekends, Cas, or are you just an occasional scarecrow?"

"Uh." _Oh, very eloquent_ , Castiel's brain hissed at him, but he was too busy trying to restart his pulmonary system to think about vocabulary. Dean turned to look at him, green eyes full of friendly mirth. "How did…" Castiel tried again, managing two actual words this time before sputtering out of fuel once more.

"Your brother owns this place, right? I was looking for you when we came. Wondered if you'd be working some booth or ride."

 _That can't be right,_ Cas thought, frantically trying to regain his sanity. _He doesn't even know me; how would he know I might be here? Looking for me?_ "My brother Gabriel," he said, his voice sounding strained to his own ears. "He made me come. I wasn't going to."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Dean said, grinning. "Knew it was you when I got close. That scarf." Dean grabbed the blue knitted scarf looped around Castiel's throat, gently tugging. "You wear it almost every day when the temperature drops below sixty."

"I get cold," Castiel said with a frown, wondering if he was being teased.

"It looks warm," Dean said without any sign that he was poking fun. "But it's the color I remembered. That blue – it matches your eyes." He suddenly stopped, eyes flashing from the fabric to Castiel's face, which was suddenly flaming hot. The burlap mask felt suffocating, but he was immensely grateful that Dean couldn't see his blush. Dean, however, seemed to feel differently.

"Um, Cas, I don't suppose you could, uh…" he gestured toward the mask. His cocky confidence seemed to be flagging in an uncharacteristic way. "Kind of like to see your face when I'm talking, so I know you're not…um. Not laughing at me?" Dean winced at his own fumbling, but he made no move to pull away. He glanced back down at the scarf, toying with it.

Castiel felt stunned. "Why would I laugh at you?" he said, reaching reluctantly for the edge of the mask. He didn't want to take it off. Taking it off meant that he was no longer "Mister Scarecrow"; he was just Castiel, and Castiel didn't have handsome, brilliant guys sit on his lap and…was Dean flirting? That was another thing Castiel didn't ever have. Mister Scarecrow was luckier. Maybe he could wear the mask for the rest of his life.

"Because I'm an idiot," Dean said, "and you're this gorgeous genius who I have to catch in costume at a freakin' pumpkin patch, and then actually sit on you, in order to get you to talk to me." He was still grinning, but it was slipping a little. _He's nervous_ , Castiel recognized. _Dean Winchester is sitting on my lap, flirting, and he's nervous._

With that realization, Castiel's own worries suddenly evaporated. He slowly drew the mask from over his face, letting Dean see the wondering smile that had taken over his face. He knew that he was sweaty, slightly scratched from the rough material, and had hair lying in every direction but flat, but he didn't care. "You're not an idiot," he said, "and if I were a genius, you'd think I could have arranged this so I wasn't covered in burlap and straw when you caught me. I itch."

"Yeah, well, it's Halloween." Dean plucked some straw from Castiel's shirt collar. "So it's appropriate."

Castiel was sure that most people would find it unnerving, or at least awkward, to sit practically nose to nose with another person, staring into each other's eyes, without saying anything for long moments, but he was too busy counting the freckles sprinkled lightly across Dean's cheeks to be concerned with manners. Judging from the way Dean's eyes were twinkling, he agreed.

"You never said why you were looking for me," Castiel finally said. He had been focusing on the fact that Dean had done so, forgetting that there was probably a reason.

"Oh, yeah! Right!" Dean ducked his head, shaking his head at himself. "I wanted to ask if you were going to the bonfire at the school tonight."

Castiel grimaced, thinking. "Well, I actually hadn't considered it much. Probably not. It gets so cold at night."

Dean frowned. "But it's a bonfire. A big huge _fire_."

"They frown at attempts to actually sit in the flames, don't they?"

Sighing dramatically, Dean pulled gently on Castiel's scarf. "I guess you're leaving me no choice. I'll just have to be responsible for keeping you from freezing. So, if I solemnly promise to keep you warm, will you come to the bonfire? With me, I mean?" He tugged again, the invitation hanging in the air.

Maybe the events of the day still hadn't fully caught up with Castiel; that was his excuse, later, for why he had been a bit slow on the uptake. "How are you going to keep –" he began, but the question was lost as Dean pulled the scarf one last time, dragging Castiel into a kiss that convinced him that he'd never be cold again.

Castiel had never been a big fan of Halloween. But, he reflected, it was probably wise to keep an open mind about these things.


End file.
